


My Body Is A Cage

by Val_Creative



Series: Kinktober/Whumptober/Goretober 2020 [10]
Category: Tomie, Tomie - All Media Types, Tomie - Junji Ito - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Canon, Art School, Blood and Gore, Body Worship, Canon - Manga, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual Somnophilia, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Angst, Goretober, Horror, Human/Monster Romance, Introspection, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Murder, Nipple Licking, Past Character Death, Possession, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Romance, Somnophilia, Teasing, Tomie Is A Lesbian, Tomie Is Sapphic, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26939530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: People go mad when they're in love.
Relationships: Kawakami Tomie/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Kinktober/Whumptober/Goretober 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949473
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18
Collections: Kinktober 2020, Whumptober 2020





	My Body Is A Cage

**Author's Note:**

> Mitsuo Mori never did end up with a daughter but I made up one. Tomie likes to also seduce the daughters of men she knew long ago as indicated by one of the Tomie movies. HOPE YA'LL ENJOY. ANY COMMENTS WELCOMED. MY MISSION ON AO3 IS TO BE ALL UP IN THE TOMIE SECTION AND TURNING IT INTO FEMSLASH CENTRAL WITH WLW TOMIE FICS. TEEHEE!

*

People go mad when they're in love.

She's learned this through Nana Horie's life. Her mother. Nana gave birth to Mori when she was in her late twenties, pursuing a career in modeling, and shortly after her father — who never knew Mori existed — died. He starved himself.

They found him in his art workshop, his skin peeling and blackening from an infection. Touching him had been like ice. Masuda, an old friend, phoned for help when he discovered Mori's father. Nobody could avoid the blood. A visceral and crimson _blood_ everywhere. It coated the workshop's panels, and seeped into tiles and the dusty carpeting. Trails of blood led out the door.

DNA tests brought no conclusions. 

Families mourned. 

Life went on.

Mitsuo Mori fell in love _with another woman_ , they say. He was a brilliant modern painter and he slept with Nana, but his mind was fragile. Something about _the other woman_ drove him to alcohol and tears. 

Nana only remembers that the woman had been beautiful.

The authorities found Takao Iwata murdered in his studio. They suspected Mori's father of the deed after his passing.

Nana nicknamed her "Mori" after her dead father, wishing to honor his memory. Mori only wishes she could have _helped_ him. They said her father tore apart his paintings. His sketchbooks and murals chucked into a fire-pit and left as ashes.

Mori has seen a digitized photo of what they salvaged: the burnt, watercolor painting of an eye.  So dark and yet a gold-orange.

She tells her girlfriend about it sometimes, combing out Tomie's sleek, black hair and petting her neck lovingly. Mori really likes Tomie. 

Everything about Tomie seems so soft. 

_So beautiful._

Unlike Mori with her grungy, high-waisted blue jeans and crop-tops under unzipped hoodies, Tomie dresses more conservative with her velvet, crimson-red headband and Mori's school blazer.

They met when Tomie lived from Osaka. 

Mori doesn't remember if it was June or July, or what train station it was, but she caught Tomie examining herself in a puddle's reflection. She patted off her white linen smocked dress flecked in cherry dot print.

Her girlfriend doesn't like selfies. She doesn't like the men wandering after her in crowds and she doesn't like inexpensive hats.

Scary things and disease and death are considered _"gross"_ to Tomie.

Mori starts attending painting classes. Her instructor praises her on Mori's strokes and her vivid pigment. All of the _crimson_. 

She wants to paint Tomie. 

Tomie giggles, batting her eyelashes sweetly and promises her later.

Later, later, later later _later_.

She doesn't mind waiting. Mori just wishes that Tomie would remember to pick up mail. She still hasn't gotten her art supplies. Tomie never considers what anyone else needs, and as much as Mori loves her—it gets frustrating. 

Random men steal Tomie's sparkling pink cell for her number. 

They knock on the apartment door, begging to know if _Tomie_ lived here. 

Mori lies.

Tomie becomes erratic and hostile. She broods. Mori catches her staring emptily over the nighttime bridge as if it holds a sanctum to her. Tomie shrieks out, losing her temper when Mori mentions painting like her father had. Her dark eyes seethe.

_ Horrible! A horrible man! _

Mori calms her down, dropping her wooden spoon and hugging her. Tomie sulks. Her fingernails gleam like cherry dots.

Something feels wrong.

It roars and curdles venomously in Mori's gut. Whispers to her all about _Tomie, Tomie, Tomie…_

Tomie drifts off to sleep. She lies sideways with her thin, slender back to Mori.

Mori gently rolls her. 

Neither of them bothered to dress, and Mori trails her hand over Tomie's hip-bone. 

She's flawless. No pimple. No blemish and no dry skin either. 

She bows her head, kissing over Tomie's small, pale breasts and her nipples hardening to Mori's saliva-slick lips. Mori lets out a delirious moan to Tomie's fragrant skin, worshiping her, teasing her body.

_ Tomie… _

She rubs her fingers on her girlfriend's clit. Mori nudges apart her vaginal lips, thumbing her entrance. 

So _wet_. 

Hot fluid dribbles onto Mori's hand. 

Mori gazes admiringly to Tomie's pensive face, sinking knuckle-deep into her and needing more than flesh…

_ Tomie… Tomie… _

Tomie's eyelids crack open. Dark eyes swim in glowing gold-orange…

_ Tomie… _

Mori yells herself awake, thrashing in bed.  She coughs, trying to suck in air. 

Tomie strolls in the corridor, humming pleasantly and ignorant to her girlfriend's increasing distress. 

Mori races after her, naked and wild-eyed.

_ A beautiful woman…? _

"This isn't the right color," Tomie complains in a soft haughtiness. The night-slip hovers to Tomie's kneecaps and exposes lacy panties. She fingers a roll of sparkling baby pink tulle. Beads of pale blue and silver and fuchsia and deep sea green sewn in. "You can't paint me in this _horrible_ thing. I'll be ugly.… I'll look like I'm thirty and dead, _teehee_ … _Teehee hee!"_

Something's wrong.

Mori feels herself possessed by some strong, invisible force. She wants to. She doesn't want to, but it whispers for Tomie. Her hand fumbles on the kitchen counter's ledge. One of the boning knives clutches between Mori's fingers.

The mail isn't here. She needs her art supplies. Tomie promised.

Tomie promised her later.

_ Later, later later… _

Tomie's scream pierces through the morning. The grey carpeting darkens.

Now, she has red.

_ Red. _

Red paint.

Mori inhales the scent of burnt coffee, sitting in front of her bedroom's easel and dragging her crimson forefinger to the canvas. 

She can worry about the imperfections later.

_Later_. 

Tomie's corpse lies face-down in a pool of blood trailing to the door.

The boning knife clatters behind Mori. Footsteps draw nearer.

_ "You didn't do it right." _

Tomie leans over her shoulder, embracing Mori and nuzzling her blood-splattered cheek to Mori's face. Her pearly teeth gape from her jaws carved to the bone. Her voice fades in and out of girlishly high to a monstrous rumble. Tomie's glow-eyes blink.

_ "Make me pretty. Make me pretty like I really am." _

"I'll grant your wish," Mori insists calmly. "I'll do what my father couldn't do for you, Tomie."

*

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober 2020 prompt(s): **Somnophilia**  
>  Whumptober 2020 prompt(s): **Blood Loss, Trail of Blood**  
>  Goretober 2020 prompt(s): **Possession**


End file.
